


Don't Blame the Children

by softpeterparker (orphan_account)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Kid Peter Parker, Other, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 15:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/softpeterparker
Summary: After the events from Age of Ultron, there are many people who are furious with the Avengers. And some of those people are not afraid to take out their anger on one of the Avenger's kids.





	Don't Blame the Children

Uncle Ben and Peter were treading through the local shopping mall, searching for a shoe store. But Peter wasn’t really paying attention to the search; he was really admiring the beauty of the mall. 

The glass ceiling that had the sun radiating through it, the big and small shops with pretty designs and looks, and the clean stone floor. And he liked to watch the people as well. Not like a creepy stalker of course, he wasn’t that, not at all--but he liked to see all the other people who were there. The groups of friends talking and laughing.The couples holding hands and kissing. The families with toddlers and the families with teenagers. The loners walking by themselves. 

Peter loved the shopping mall. 

Uncle Ben poked him in the rib cage. “Earth to Peter?”

Peter was yanked out of his mind. “Yeah?” 

“What type of shoes do you want?” he asked, turning back to check each store sign. 

“Uh--high-top,” Peter replied, absentmindedly. He kept his eyes on the people around them. There was a mom pushing a stroller that had a baby girl inside, a group of three friends leaving the food court, a father and his teenage son--

He felt a tug on his jacket sleeve pulling him to the left. Peter shook his head, returning to Earth once again. Uncle Ben was a few feet ahead, walking towards a shoe shop and Peter hurried after him, quickly catching up to him. 

Uncle Ben held the door open for him and he entered the shop and took in his surroundings, stepping aside to let Uncle Ben in. He immediately found the high-tops and raced to them, inspecting them all. Uncle Ben stood behind him, watching over his shoulder. 

“Don’t want that one, it’s too bright--not that one either, too boring--not that one, not my style--that one looks cool.” Peter picked up a high-top sneaker that was dark grey with black and grey stripes and white laces and showed it to Uncle Ben, holding it like it was precious.

“Well, let’s go ask for your size, because that’s definitely not it,” Uncle Ben chuckled to himself. He walked away, getting a worker’s attention and pointing back to the shoe Peter held while talking. The worker nodded, smiling politely as they disappeared into the back. 

Peter sat down next to Uncle Ben onto the bench, putting the shoe back first. “What size am I?” Peter asked curiously. 

“Four and a half.”

“Is that small?” 

“Well you’re only ten, so your feet will probably get much bigger.” 

The worker came back with the right sized shoes, putting the box next to Uncle Ben. “See how they are.” She gave another smile before walking off to the next customers.   
Peter slipped on the high-tops and stood up, testing how they felt. “How do they feel?” Uncle Ben asked, studying his face. 

“Pretty good.” 

“Walk around in them,” Uncle Ben told him, and Peter walked from the middle of the store to the back and back. The floor of the shoe was quite comfortable. “They feel really good,” Peter told Uncle Ben, smiling excitedly. 

“Then let’s buy them,” Uncle Ben replied, and Peter tucked them back into the box and stuffed his feet back into his old sneakers. The two walked up to the front and paid for them, and walked out with the shoes in a box in a bag. 

“Only took us twenty minutes to find it,” Uncle Ben said sarcastically, and Peter giggled before turning back to his activity of people-watching. 

As he was looking over the people he once again stopped paying attention and Uncle Ben had to pull him out of the way of other people multiple times. But suddenly, he was violently pulled out of his own little world when someone got in his face before he or Uncle Ben could react.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR FATHERS HAVE DONE?!” 

The blonde woman’s voice was shaking with anger and pain, and her eyes were wide with desperation and grief. Peter jumped back from the woman, terrified of her. What did she want with him? And what did she mean by his fathers? 

Uncle Ben stepped between Peter and the woman, his back to Peter, shielding him. “He has nothing to do with it,” he snarled at the woman. Peter flinched; he’d never heard his uncle so furious before. 

The woman continued her rampage, pointing her finger at Peter over Uncle Ben’s shoulder. A group of watchers was forming, staring at the three of them. “MY SISTER AND BROTHER IN LAW DIED IN THAT WAR! YOUR DADS DID THAT! THEY WOULDN’T BE DEAD IF IT WEREN’T FOR THEM!” Tears dripped off the woman’s cheeks as she screamed. She breathed heavily, almost gasping for breath. Peter wanted to run, run as fast he could away from this crazy person, but he was rooted to the ground, his legs frozen and eyes stuck on the woman’s face.

“SECURITY!” Uncle Ben shouted, and there were big men in black suits there in an instant, dragging the squirming woman away from them. 

“YOUR PARENTS TOOK THEM AWAY!” the woman shrieked at the top of her lungs. “THEY DID!” 

When the woman was far in the distance, the crowd was still there, staring with wide eyes at Uncle Ben and Peter. “Get away from us!” Uncle Ben shouted and the crowd scrambled, hurrying away from the spot where the two stood. 

Peter was still frozen, staring at where the woman’s head was. Did my parents kill people? What really happened? Why is she mad at me? 

He felt a hand gently clasp his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here,” Uncle Ben softly decided, and Peter only nodded. He didn’t know what to say or do; did he ask if Steve and Dad killed people? Did he ask why the woman was mad at him? Did he ask what truly happened in Sovokia? 

He decided to just follow Uncle Ben out and into the car and keep silent the whole way. Dad and Steve would never do stuff like that. They were heroes, not villains.

But what if they’d gotten people killed like the woman said? What if they were guilty like the woman said? Peter remembered with too vivid memory the shake of the woman’s voice, the wideness of her eyes. She terrified him and she seemed completely crazy, but what if she was right? 

Peter trailed after Uncle Ben as they trudged up the flights of stairs up to their room in the apartment building. Uncle Ben opened the door with a click of the key. Aunt May was sitting on the couch watching the news when Uncle Ben and Peter stepped in. 

She turned to them, her face brightly lit but the light faded away when she saw the solemn looks on their faces. 

“So...What’d you guys get?” Aunt May asked, obviously trying to keep the mood up. She glanced at Peter but he didn’t meet her gaze. Instead he asked quietly, “When’s Dad picking me up?” 

“In an hour honey,” Aunt May replied, concern written in her eyes. Peter nodded, looking away from her again. Uncle Ben saw that he didn’t want to talk and sat down on the couch, waving Peter off to his room with an angry look slowly returning to his face. 

Peter threw himself onto his bed and laid there, staring up at the ceiling. He felt confused and frustrated and guilty; he didn’t know anything about the battle Dad and Steve had fought in, and he so badly wanted to know more now. But most of all, he felt scared. 

Had his father and his boyfriend truly killed people? 

What if they killed a lot more and Peter didn’t know?

Or was the woman lying? 

Or what if she wasn’t?

After packing his stuff Peter pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and started watching YouTube videos to pass the hour. Maybe they’d distract him. 

But as the hour passed, his worries only got worse with the anxiety of facing his dad. And when someone knocked on the door he felt the anxiety like icicles forming in his lungs.

“Come out Pete, Dad’s here!”

The icicles were glaciers now. He closed the app and stuffed his phone in his pocket and hurried himself to the door, grabbing his bag of stuff and nearly throwing the door open.

Uncle Ben stood there, grim features still on his face. But he smiled fondly down at Peter and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Love you,” he whispered. 

“Love you too,” Peter whispered back, and Uncle Ben passed him over to Aunt May. 

She looked down on him with deep empathy and kissed the top of his forehead. “Love you,” she told him. 

“Love you too,” he murmured back.

And there was Dad, standing at the door. Wearing a blazer over a t-shirt with a cat drawing and suit pants. 

Good ol’ Dad. 

Peter hadn’t felt this nervous since a few years ago when he broke one of Dum-E’s fingers. 

“Hey Petey,” Dad greeted him. “You got all your stuff?” 

“Mhm,” Peter nodded. It hurt to meet his eyes, which held a tired but caring look. 

“Then we’re ready.” He called a thanks to Uncle Ben and Aunt May before closing the door and leading the way to the car. 

Peter remained silent, staring out the window in the backseat. He saw Dad glance in the review mirror at him with concern a few times but he ignored it. 

When they got home Peter quickly opened the car door and ran to the door. “You’re eager to get inside,” he heard Dad comment from behind as he opened the door and hurried in, racing to the elevator and punching in his room number, leaving Dad at the bottom floor with an exasperated look on his face. 

Peter burst into his room and locked the door behind him. Seeing Dad’s face had triggered all the the confusion and fear he’d been stuffing for the past hour. He didn’t know what to do. What would Dad think of him if he asked if he’d killed people? What if Dad had? 

Peter slid down the door, his back against the wood as he sat on the floor and tucked his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. 

It was dark as it was close to seven o’clock, but he didn’t turn the light on; his mind was too busy for that. 

So he sat in the dark, staring ahead, anxiety weighing like a frozen over Pacific Sea in his chest and a storm in his head. Fear and guilt gripped at him the most; what if there were others like the lady? What if they were right? What if--

There was a soft knock at the door, dragging Peter out of his thoughts. 

“Petey? Can I come in?” 

That was both the thing Peter wanted the most and least. 

He slowly got up and unlocked the door and opened it up. 

There stood Dad. Worry was etched in his face, along with a tired look in his eyes. 

He gestured for Peter to sit on the bed and he did for the first time since getting home. 

Dad stood before him, looking down on him like he was trying to study him. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

“Mhm,” Peter answered, keeping his eyes on the ground. 

“Look at me.” Dad sat down in front of him and his gaze burned into Peter’s head. 

Peter slowly lifted his head up to him, staring back into his dad’s brown eyes. 

He felt his mouth start to frown at the edges, something he always did when he was about to cry. He tried to stop it but it wouldn’t listen. 

“Did something happen honey?” Dad softly asked, the tired look completely gone and only concern in his eyes. 

Peter looked down at the floor again as he recounted the story. 

“Uncle Ben and I were walking in the mall when some lady screamed in my face about you and Steve doing something,” he started, and his voice was already watery. His nose felt wet and he sniffled, trying to stop it. 

Dad didn’t speak, letting Peter talk. 

“And-and she said you killed her sister and brother in law, and-and that they wouldn’t be dead if it weren’t for you,” he forced out. He bit his lip trying to hold back a whimper as he looked back up at Dad. 

Dad looked furious. 

The fear and guilt and confusion punched him at all sides and he broke completely. “Why-why would she say that?” His voice cracked, and he let one tear slip down his cheek. “Why--why--” His voice fell into a sob as more tears dripped down his cheeks. Strong arms wrapped around him and he clung on, sobbing into his dad’s shoulder. 

“Everything that vile, disgusting woman said was wrong. How dare she force all of that onto you when you had nothing to do with any of it and you’re only a child.” Dad’s hands trembled on Peter’s back. “Peter, we didn’t kill anyone. The deaths in Sovokia were caused by someone else, not us. The deaths were terribly tragic but it was not our faults.” 

Peter nodded into his dad’s shoulder, trying to calm his confusion and guilt. He took deep breaths and his dad rubbed small circles into his back, trying to calm him down.

Peter eventually calmed down and his dad suggested Chinese for dinner, which he was delighted to hear. But as he was happily eating dinner with his dad and then Steve, the thought occurred to him that maybe this wasn’t just a one-time thing. 

Maybe he was always going to get wrapped up in his parents’ fights.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Please give feedback if you think there could be some improvements, if you hated this, if you loved this, idk. I might make a series of superfamily, depends on if people like this or not. Thanks again for reading!


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